


Bedtime Stories

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Plug, Background Character Death, Cunnilingus, F/F, Hair-pulling, Light Bondage, Magic During Sex, Masturbation, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Temperature Play, Warden Bethany Hawke, background Bethany/F!OC, background Bethany/M!OC, background Bethany/nb!OC, brief background heteronormative assumptions about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: "Varric once told me that no story truly ends. It's just a matter of where the teller decides to stop.""Oh? Then how would you tell our story, sweetness?"





	Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iodhadh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iodhadh/gifts).



> Happy Black Emporium, iodadh! This pairing had never crossed my mind before but your prompts were so good that I went 'ooh' and knew I had to write this one. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also many thanks to [ialpiriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel) for the friendly beta and helping trim unnecessarily awkward scenes. <3

_"Varric once told me that no story truly ends. It's just a matter of where the teller decides to stop."_

_"Oh? Then how would you tell our story, sweetness?"_

. . .

Bethany could not have said when she first fell in love. She knew the pink blush of affection, but she did not know love.

She knew lust, the dry-mouthed gulp and heart-slammed choke of it, when she first saw Isabela. Isabela was pantsless and fierce and so utterly unlike anyone else Bethany had ever known that Bethany had no defense. Isabela had bright eyes and strong hands and a vulgar laugh, and drank life to the dregs. She was brave and bold and shameless with want. And when Isabela wanted, she _reached_.

Bethany wanted, too. As the youngest Hawke, as Lee's baby sister, she was expected to be soft and selfless, sweet and gentle—and it was easy to be sweet when one was beloved, but it was hard to be selfless. Bethany tried not to want what she could not have, and tried to be a good daughter, a sister, a friend.

Bethany was afraid to want, much less reach for what she wanted.

. . .

_"So my generous, heaving bosom had nothing to do with it?"_

_"Isabela!"_

_"You're blushing! Did you ever touch yourself and think of me?"_

. . .

Isabela had a magnificent bosom and dirty jokes, and would dog-ear smutty books for Bethany while explaining why women were good for six things. Isabela included a demonstration on a peach—in the market, no less!—that ended with the fruit stall's laughing owner giving them all the fruit they could carry. Mother had been delighted with the unexpected produce, but Bethany had to excuse herself when Lee dripped juice down her chin.

It wasn't until later that Bethany had a chance to _practice_ anything that Isabela had taught her. The Hawkes were packed breathlessly tight in Gamlen's tiny hovel, so Bethany had to wait until Lee and Gamlen were out doing something dubious and Mother was hunting bargains at the night market. Bethany lay beneath her blanket, flat on her back, eyes closed, and forced herself to breathe slow and even.

Contrary to Isabela's teasing, it wasn't as if Bethany had never masturbated—but those times had been few and infrequent, limited to experimental grinding against her hand or trying to slip a dry finger inside. Bethany had been vaguely aware that was how women did it with men, and she _was_ a woman and she _did_ like men, but it seemed so unsatisfactory that she assumed she was doing it wrong.

. . .

_"Oh—sweetness. Poor sweetness."_

_"I didn't know any better. Don't feel too sorry for me, now—I did learn, after all."_

. . .

So she lay in bed, one hand on her belly and the other tugging down her small-clothes. Small, furtive movements, secretive even in solitude. She bit her lip as she cupped her breast, fingers curled against the soft swell of areola, the gentle point of nipple. It was easier to imagine these weren't her hands at all, but the hands of a lover, someone more experienced that Bethany could trust to give her pleasure. It was Isabela, beautiful, laughing Isabela in her thoughts as Bethany pinched her nipple, tugged it between thumb and finger, as she dared to slip a finger down the warm slick of her folds, to circle and feel until she found that tiny bundle of clit, compass-rose and center of everything Isabela said a woman's pleasure could be.

Her dry finger was too much, too direct, so Bethany brought it up to her mouth and—feeling very daring—licked it, then sucked it into her mouth and swirled her tongue to coat the joint, quite certain that this was what Isabela would have done.

. . .

_"I **would**."_

. . .

Once wet, _oh_. That made such a difference, and Bethany imagined if it were a tongue, strong and supple, and that made her blush all the way down to her toes but it helped move her from timid rubbing to bolder strokes as she imagined Isabela's hands, Isabela's mouth. Bethany even tried slipping one finger inside, then another, shocked at how easy it came now, her body wet and slick and eagerly embracing those two fingers. She curled them just-so, grinding into her palm, her other hand squeezing her breast—hard, harder—and imagining Isabela, Isabela, always Isabela—

. . .

_"If I stop here, it's just about a silly young girl and her crush."_

_"Oh, you were never silly. Charming, sweet—inexperienced, but not **silly**."_

_"But when we went to the Deep Roads—"_

_"Do you have to tell that part? It's sad."_

_"Well—I supposed I don't. We know how it ended, anyway. I went to the Wardens."_

. . .

Bethany learned much in her first month with the Wardens. She learned the taint in her blood sang harmony with the darkspawn's. It was a blessing, in some ways—it let her sense their presence. It was a curse, in many others—it meant she would die alone and in the dark, down in the Deep Roads when the Calling grew too loud. It meant she had lost her family, her friends, and any chance for children before she even decided if she wanted them. It meant her appetite had doubled and tripled, and her stomach growled for more food than it ever had before.

Bethany learned even more in her second month with the Wardens. She learned that while an apostate was to be feared, a Warden was revered, and being a hero could—sometimes, at least—outweigh the dangers of being a mage. No one was going to lock a Grey Warden in a tower.

Bethany never stopped learning.

Bethany learned she loved women when she met Jiya. Jiya was tall and tapered, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, deep eyes and a crooked smile. She carried tiny green peppers in her pouch and would alternate bites of pepper with bites of whatever food they shared. She could peel tangerines into one long strip, and liked to feed the segments to Bethany one by one before moving in for a kiss that tasted of capsaicin and citrus.

Bethany learned she loved men when she met Paint. Paint was short and sturdy, even for a dwarf, with every visible inch of skin covered in tattoos and even more hiding behind his beard and under his shirt. He had a gap-toothed smile and square hands, and was happiest when devouring honey in dripping spoonfuls. He called it ‘robbing the bees,’ and when Bethany teased him for it, he grinned and offered to share. They shared cakes, biscuits, kisses, and Paint made good on his honey-tongue.

Bethany learned she loved people who had rejected those two genders when she met Kestrel. Kestrel was a Warden with a biting laugh and only half their left ear. They liked to salt their apples before eating them, something that Bethany watched in rapt confusion before Kestrel rolled their eyes and offered her a slice. Over time their shared fruit turned into shared kisses and slow couplings.

Bethany learned she loved bright smiles and strong hands and vulgar laughs and always, always thought about Isabela and what they might have been, if Bethany had been a little braver, a little bolder.

. . .

_"Hm. Kestrel and Jiya. They were human?"_

_"Oh? Yes, I thought I said so."_

_"No. You said Paint was a dwarf, but never said about them."_

_"Oh. You're right. I suppose even now, I think of human as the default."_

_"People didn't start calling me 'Rivaini' until I left Rivain. I get it. But with all those lovers, did you ever...?"_

_"Ever what? Suggestive eyebrows mean less than you think."_

_"Ever have more than one? At once?"_

_"We often did. It is hard to care about monogamy and ''til death do you part' when death's so close all the time."_

_"I mean **at once**. Together. At the same time."_

_"Oh. Yes. But more than three, or four even and it's not 'group sex' so much as an orgy."_

_"Do explain the difference, love."_

_"Group sex—to me—means three or more people all having sex with each other. Their bodies are all connected, however that works. An orgy is several groups having sex all at the same time."_

_"Then tell me about a threesome."_

. . .

Bethany loved when Kestrel and Jiya held her between them. Jiya liked to be in front, to press the hard lines and angles of her body against Bethany's curves, her muscled thigh grinding between Bethany's legs. Kestrel liked to be in back, whispering jokes about thigh-fencing as they held Bethany's arms, as they twisted their hand into Bethany's hair, pulling to make the scalp go taut, to make Bethany's mouth fall open as Jiya devoured her in kisses, as Kestrel bit hard on the tender curve of neck and shoulder—

One of the advantages of mage robes was that they can be quickly pushed up and moved aside. Bethany had made use of that many times while in the field, finding some shadowy bit of privacy where she could fuck or masturbate, depending on mood and partner. This was one of those times, taking advantage of a nearby waterfall with a hidden cave. The water would drown their noise, and the rest of the Wardens would keep watch back at the main camp. All three of them were undressed in bits and pieces—Jiya's shirt half-buttoned, breasts winking as she moved; Kestrel's cloak spread on the grey stone and their sleeves rolled up to the elbow; Bethany's boots kicked off and pushed aside, underwear around one ankle—which added a furtive element they probably didn't need, but oh—

Kestrel steered Bethany onto her back, adding a cruel-sweet yank of her hair and a kiss on the cheek as Bethany's reward for good behavior, and settled between Bethany's thighs. The waterfall roared around them, echoing off the rocks as Kestrel kissed Bethany's knee, then her thigh, moving up towards the coarse curls of Bethany's sex. Jiya undid her belt, dropping her trousers and hopping her way out of them before straddling Bethany's face. Bethany breathed in the warm smell of Jiya's cunt, and then it was a struggle to breathe, to not be crushed beneath Jiya's magnificent thighs as Jiya ground herself onto Bethany's face, dripped down Bethany's chin. Bethany tried her best to please, to drag her tongue through Jiya's folds and to give the broad, flat strokes that Jiya liked on her clit, but it became so much harder as Kestrel started eating her out, their mouth wrapped around Bethany's clit, their stubble scratching Bethany's thighs, and it got to be too much, all at once, crushed and smothered and squeezing all at the same time as Bethany hooked her knees over Kestrel's shoulders and Jiya bore down on her face and everything was good and wonderful and so, so fleeting—

. . .

_"This would be a good place to stop, too. Young apostate grown into her own, with friends and company. Except then it wouldn't be a love story, would it? So I need to work my way back to you."_

_"You didn't mention Paint during the sex. Where was he?"_

_"Dead."_

_"Oh. I'm sorry. You never said."_

_"What **should** I have said, Bela? That he died standing in his own blood, holding back the darkspawn? That his last words were a kiss, a promise, an apology? There wasn't any fairy-tale ending, nothing sweet or romantic about it."_

_"...I'm sorry, love."_

_"...I'm sorry too. I'm just...just tired of being expected to be grateful for this. Grateful to be alive. I wish people could just accept that this is—that it's not perfect. That I'm allowed to be angry, to not be all sunshine and smiles just because I haven't died yet."_

_A long silence._

_"Oh, I know how to work out what comes next. 'And then beautiful Bela of the bountiful bosom came crashing back into Bethany's life, and Bethany creamed her drawers—'"_

_"Isabela! I'm telling the story, not you!"_

_"Oh, but do work in something about my bosom. It's cute when you blush."_

. . .

Bethany went back to Kirkwall. Even amidst the devastation, Bethany missed Isabela like a sailor missed the sea.

_"Ouch, laying it on thick. I only said to mention my bosom, you don't have to get all mushy on me."_

_"Fine, fine. How's this?"_

. . .

Isabela's magnificent bosom refused to be restrained by shirts, corsets, or the blown-up Chantry. It made Bethany cream her drawers.

. . .

_"There, **much** better."_

. . .

They had to finish dealing with mages and templars and escaping the confines of the city they once called home before Bethany could follow up on her years-old crush. Isabela had her ship, and Bethany made her way to the captain's quarters that very night to be as bold and brave as she could, where she taught Isabela that not only had Bethany learned tricks with lightning, but she had learned tricks with fire and ice and—

. . .

_"What, no details?"_

_"You were **there**. You can remember better than I can tell you!"_

_"But I like hearing you tell it!"_

. . .

Bethany rolls on top of Isabela, chuckling as her hair falls into Isabela's mouth. "I would much rather make a new story with you."

"Oh. Well." Isabela spits out Bethany's hair. "I can't say no to that," Isabela says, arching her back. "Come on then. Explore my Deep Roads, let’s taint my Warden—"

_"Isabela!"_

Isabela laughs, cupping Bethany's face and pulling her into a kiss. Bethany pulls away, then nibbles on Isabela's lip, twisting a hand into her hair and pulling until she hears Isabela's delighted gasp. Isabela likes it just-so, hard enough to pull skin, and Bethany nuzzles under Isabela's chin, working her way down to Isabela's bare breasts. They are both naked in bed, the ship rocking them like a lullaby in the privacy of Isabela's cabin, but sleep is far from their minds. Bethany licks Isabela's sternum, then gnaws her way across the breast, leaving a daisy-chain of bite marks in her wake. Isabela moans, but rather than retreat she thrusts up, into the path of Bethany's mouth, and Bethany pushes her shoulder down in retaliation.

"You're going to have to do better than that, if you want to keep me down," Isabela pants.

"Do better than what, exactly?" Bethany challenges.

"You'll need rope, for starters."

Bethany smirks. She takes Isabela's wrists and pushes them into the pillow, framing Isabela's head. "Do I really?"

"As much as I like this, I _also_ like having your hands free," Isabela says. She tosses her head—or at least as much as she can, which ends up mussing her hair into the pillow.

"It's a good thing I know magic, then," Bethany chuckles. It's a wordless conjuration, a gentle application of force magic to create invisible cuffs. They kiss the skin without constriction, providing only a relentless pressure that keeps Isabela's hands fixed in place.

"Mm, mages _do_ know the best tricks," Isabela agrees. "It's like having an entire sex shop at your fingertips." She thrashes artistically, jiggling her breasts until Bethany takes the hint and goes down to mouth the nipple, swirling her tongue about the tip until she pulls the whole thing into her mouth. Bethany bites—soft first, lips over teeth, then hard, no lips to blunt the teeth—until Isabela groans, then switches to the other side. Bethany keeps working with a careful symmetry, nibbling and sucking to leave wine-dark bruises on Isabela's lovely skin, blowing cool puffs of air over the heated flesh whenever Isabela breaks into cursing. She only continues biting whenever Isabela's swears turn into pleading, because patience is a gift and Bethany has always been a giver.

"Go down, damn you," Isabela groans, when Bethany's circled back to the left breast for the third time.

"Down where?" Bethany asks, pinching the nipple.

"My cunt, you ass."

Bethany rolls the nipple between thumb and forefinger. "Your ass, you say?"

Isabela gives a theatrical groan, then breaks into a full-body laugh, breasts jiggling and belly heaving. "Well, I like _that_ too. Use the toy?"

"The small one, or...?"

"The small one," Isabela says firmly.

Bethany fishes in the nightstand until she finds the steel plug. It had settled to the bottom, beneath Isabela's scarves and various bits of jewelry, and Bethany bumps against the wooden dildo as she pulls the plug out. The lube is already on top of the nightstand, so Isabela impatiently waits as Bethany unscrews the lid and pours a generous portion over the toy.

"Cold or warm?" Bethany asks.

"Cold. I like feeling it warm up inside," Isabela says, grinning.

Bethany laughs. "Cold it is." She traces her fingers over the steel bulb, letting frost magic tingle at her fingertips, just enough to chill the metal. She rubs the lube onto the toy with her palm, smearing it all over and checking the temperature before she presses the tip against Isabela's ass.

Isabela hisses at the cold, but obligingly spreads her legs, knees wide and feet flat. She cants her hips forward, offering better access as Bethany leans over her, breathing warmth onto her cunt as the toy slides down, slips in—

"Oh. _Oh_. Fuck. Fuck _me_ ," Isabela groans, almost a hiccup as her body relaxes around the toy. Once the thickest part makes it through, she envelopes the rest, the flared base resting snugly between her cheeks.

"That's the plan," Bethany agrees.

Isabela blows a raspberry.

Bethany blows one back, then settles between Isabela's legs. Isabela hooks a knee over Bethany's shoulder, kicking with her heel to drive Bethany in, in, closer, and Bethany obliges by nuzzling into Isabela's pubic hair, tickling her nose into the thick curls and breathing deep. Bethany would say that Isabela smelled liked the sea, if Isabela wouldn't laugh—she can already imagine the hooting _"you mean I smell like fish piss and bilge water?"_ —but there's the salt and freedom of her, that wonderful smell of life and living that pulls Bethany in, sweet and relentless as the tide. It's felt less in the nose and more in the heart, wound tight through blood and marrow.

Bethany loves the smell and taste of Isabela, but takes her time to get there. Bethany kisses Isabela's thigh, the inner curve of her leg and the plumpness of her outer lips before prying an elbow on Isabela's knee, using her thumbs to draw open the folds and expose the tight swell of Isabela's clit. Even then Bethany didn't go directly for the clit, instead swirling her tongue in soft, flat swells, gentle laps up and down as she circles close, closer, never touching until Isabela drums her heel against Bethany's back and releases a litany of curses that's sweeter than prayer. Bethany finally takes mercy, swirls her tongue over Isabela's clit and draws it into her mouth, sucks and swirls and slips a finger into Isabela's wet cunt. Bethany can feel the fullness of the toy in Isabela's ass, providing a different sort of pressure against Bethany's fingers as she curls, searching for that familiar spot amidst all the wetness, then slides in a second finger once she does, beckoning and curving and holding steady as she sucks and fingers Isabela to a bed-rattling orgasm.

Isabela flops, sated, and when Bethany tries to give her one more kiss on the clit Isabela groans, "No, too much, sweetness. Not until I'm ready for another round."

Bethany chuckles, pulling her fingers free. She leaves the toy for now—if they do another round, Isabela might still like it—and asks, "Should I let you free?"

" _Should_ you? Probably not. I'd still like it though," Isabela adds cheekily.

Laughing, Bethany dispels the handcuffs, and Isabela rolls over, patting the mattress beside her. 

In the end, Bethany loves bright smiles and strong hands and vulgar laughs and always, always loves Isabela.


End file.
